


we speak in tongues and start to teethe

by theamazingpeterparker



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Louis, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood and Violence, Fist Fights, Gen, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamazingpeterparker/pseuds/theamazingpeterparker
Summary: There’s a moment, a second, where Liam’s eyes are spitting angry. Bright gold and looking like he’s going to tear Louis’s throat out. And then Louis growls low and tightens his grip on Liam’s neck, leaning close enough that he can lay his sharpened canines on the pulse that’s jack-hammering in Liam’s neck. He could kill him. He could at least bite him, sink his fangs into the soft meat where his neck and shoulder meet as a reminder of who’s pack he’s interfering with, whose turf he’s on. It’s the first time that Louis misses it, for a heartbeat, blood flooding his mouth from more than just a scratch in a fight. Enough blood to satiate the full moon buzzing in his ears.Or, werewolf fight club.





	we speak in tongues and start to teethe

**Author's Note:**

> this is all because i sent kate the strip that down single cover and said "this looks like liam just got punched in the face" and then the conversation went like something something ...werewolf fight club, LOL and then this, im so sorry for everything
> 
> title from "cant get it out" by brand new.

++

His teeth already feel like static in his mouth as he approaches The Black Dog, hands shoved deep in his pockets and does his best to ignore the hard stares he gets on his way in. It’s hardly five o’clock and everyone around him is antsy, groups of young guys jostling each other at the bar and the older men gathering in their usual crowds in the booths towards the back of the pub. All eyes on him as he pushes through to the bar, ducks underneath it. Harry’s the only one who doesn’t watch him as he opens the door to the cellar.

Louis likes Harry. He’s the only bartender so far who hasn’t taken advantage of their monthly meets, just does his job that he was hired for and doesn’t ask a lot of questions. The guy before him had allowed humans to gamble on them like they were pitbulls in a ring. The bartender before that openly invited humans with guns that led to three dead and more arrested. So far, the worst offense Harry has committed is cracking god-awful puns whenever he has the chance.

Harry keeps the cellar clean, too. All that Louis has to do is put down the mats and make sure the locks haven’t been messed with. It’s probably the most common complaint they get from the young ones or the rougher ones-- some prefer the cellar stay dirty, arguing that a concrete floor covered in blood and spit and fear and anger makes the fights better. It’s the only time Louis has seen Harry genuinely frustrated, pulling Louis aside at the end of the night, “I have a fucking bar to run too, you know. If you lot want to keep this as your place, let me at least keep it up to par with the health codes.” And he had a point. They’ve started putting down wrestling mats instead.

There’s new blood milling around anxiously back upstairs. Louis leans against the back side of the bar and Harry sidles over, grinning.

“Don’t say it,” Louis sighs.

“Hair of the dog that bit ya?” Harry chirps anyway and slides Louis a beer. Louis flips him off.

The new people are nervous, the entire bar buzzing with anxiety and the regulars are feeding off of it. A raw excitement that’s going to boil over into violence, like a dog chasing a rabbit and finally catching it. The later the night gets, the more Louis catches people watching him. Waiting for him to open the cellar door again.

++

“Alright,”  Louis spins in a slow circle. The usual thirty or so pack members are there, loose and casual with beers and no qualms. It’s the pups Louis has to keep an eye on, shifting on the balls of their feet with something to prove. “You get one challenge. You solve your shit here, not on the streets. Not with humans. You got a problem, you got something to prove, you prove it here. With us.” He makes level eye contact with the men closest to him and most of them look away or bow their heads. There’s a long silence, the cellar filled with bodies anxiously jostling against each other. Louis says, “one at a time,” and steps out of the circle.

A pup steps up first, eyes wide but he points directly to a man across the room. Niall’s at Louis’s ear in a second. “Pup is Tom,” he explains softly as the two men step closer into the ring. “Richard changed him, obviously. He looks pissed.”

Richard hands off his beer bottle and spits on the ground as he slips his shoes off and twists off his rings. He’s challenged every month and never loses. It’s a fight that Louis has come to expect and he considers challenging Richard himself, because there’s fucking nothing else he can do about it. The dude just likes collecting young pups, who show up month after month to fight him. Tom is jittery and restless with the moon and the change and the cellar atmosphere and Richard waits for him lazily across the circle, chin held high. The pup charges at him swinging hard but Richard side-steps him. Tom loses his footing at the dodge and Richard surges forward with a swift punch to the jaw, sending the pup sprawling. He resurfaces with a bleeding lip and blown pupils, hunched over like he might change bodies before Richard is on him again, kicking him in the side so he falls to his stomach. He grabs the back of the kids neck hard and growls, baring teeth that have gotten sharper since the beginning of the fight. The kid goes limp, his bleeding lip pooling on the mat underneath him. Richard’s fights always go quick.

There’s a few other new pups that seem to shrink back from the crowd after that, reconsidering their challenge from watching Richard fight. There’s a lull. “I got one,” Niall says, shoving his beer into Louis’s hands and pulling off his hoodie. He points to Nick and grins. “This is for watching ahead half a season of _Breaking Bad_ without me, you motherfucker.”

Niall’s lithe and calculated and jumpy in fights and Nick is all swinging limbs and smart-ass remarks. They have a habit of challenging each other over stupid shit each month just to clear the air, show the new kids that not every fight has to be blood and snarling and cut knuckles. It’s about keeping sane, about how packs for centuries end up killing humans when they didn’t find a better way to get rid of the primal aggression that comes over them once a month. Every purple bruise and dried, deep red cut that they leave with is better on each other than on an innocent human. Feels like the full moon is seeping out of their wounds.

Nick grabs Niall around the waist and throws him to the ground but Niall rolls away as Nick goes to punch him, his knuckles meeting the hard mat instead and Nick lets out a yelp. Niall’s mouth hangs open in a wolfish grin, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he hops from foot to foot waiting for Nick to recuperate and charge again. The energy in the room goes up, occasional whoops and hollers for one man or the other but mostly just noises that will sound like howls by the end of the night. Nick gets one good punch in that immediately breaks open a cut on Niall’s cheekbone and Niall throws a punch that hits Nick squarely in the chest, both of them pausing for a few seconds to catch their breath. Nick is either panting hard or laughing and the blood from Niall’s cut is crawling towards his mouth, making it hard to tell if he’s smiling or snarling. Niall recovers first, driving a shoulder into Nick’s torso and shoving him until he hits a concrete pillar at the edge of the mats. Louis can tell he’s pulling his punches when he hits Nick in the jaw and then the nose but Nick isn’t smiling anymore. It takes three solid knocks before Niall’s lips start to curl up in a snarl and Nick finally lets his head nod down to his chest. Niall stops hitting him immediately and Nick slaps him on the shoulder, looks up with a small, exhausted smile. They pull each other out of the ring.

It’s not a particularly violent night, most of the new kids too uncertain to step in and the only fights that happen between the usual wolves are petty stuff, turf and gossip. Louis knows that a group of them will probably go out to the forest afterwards around midnight and take the full shift but at least the aggression will be gone. Harry comes down and stands at the bottom of the stairs around eleven and watches the last fight, one hand on the handrail but otherwise he’s calm. The fights break up slowly, people losing interest. Some filter back upstairs, giving Louis nods and handshakes on their way up until eventually it’s just Harry, Niall, and Louis and no more static.

++

During the day Louis is a librarian downtown. The families know him and respect him there and he doesn’t usually get bothered at work with pack stuff unless there’s a problem that needs to be dealt with. Otherwise it’s the born pups hanging out in the children’s lit section, or newly bit wolves looking for information who get sent Louis’s way by Harry or Niall.

He goes for walks in the morning before and after work, through the park and through downtown. He tells himself he’s not patrolling. He doesn’t do that anymore, knows that the entire city is too difficult to keep track of outside of the bar’s cellar but he can’t help it, some nights. Nights too close to the full moon makes him antsy to get out, make sure the pups and more aggressive wolves aren’t stepping out of line. Everyone knows him and most of them know that he takes these walks-- older members nod or tilt their head to expose their neck slightly as he walks by and the younger ones who aren’t quite sure what to think of him yet at least avert their eyes. It’s...isolating. Everyone taking him so fucking serious. He’d go insane without Niall. He’s the eyes and ears when Louis can’t be. Niall does some shit with city administration and politics, has his finger on the pulse of the whole city and the Horan family has had connections to the upper packs in power for decades. He reminds Louis to not try and stretch himself over an entire city. _Let them come to the bar to work their shit out, we can deal with the others on our own time, yeah?_ It’s been ten years since the pack started its monthly cellar meets and in that time the number of violent rogues and lone wolves has gone down. So it must count for something.

But still. It doesn’t stop Louis’s stomach from tying itself in knots for the week before and after the full moon every month. Mostly he keeps an eye on the new ones, tries to offer them an invitation to the Black Dog without making it sound like it’s an AA meeting or therapy session or some shit. Niall’s better at inviting the pups to come, anyhow.

He walks to George’s Pub, a few blocks from his apartment and the only bar within walking distance of the neighborhood that most of the pack can be found at other nights of the week. Niall’s already there, settled in with a booth of old men, half pack and half human. He’s got his Guinness and reminds Louis so much of the other old men in the pack in the moment that it almost makes him laugh.

There’s two or three young ones there, too, Tom with his split lip and a few others that Louis isn’t familiar with but he shoulders his way over anyway. There’s a tense silence, the first time the pups see Louis outside of the Black Dog and they don’t know how to react. “Irish Carbombs for the lot, please,” Louis says to the bartender, and gestures to himself and the three pups standing around him. Louis slides a glass to each guy as the bartender prepares them and lets out a laugh at the gaping mouths he gets in response. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a werewolf take a shot before,” Louis snips, picking up his shotglass and waiting for the others. Tom’s the first to grin and the other two follow suit soon after, all four of them dropping their shot glasses into the beer with a clear _clink_ and downing the whole drink.

The pups get more eager after that, the other two introducing themselves as Michael and Chris, who order a second round of shots. They’re very interested in what Louis does when he’s not directing a fight ring, cornering him against the bar and he orders himself a beer and gets comfortable. Niall shoots him an amused, toothy smile from across the room.

“You got a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“...You got a _boyfriend_?”  
  
“Nope.”

“So, what, are you like not allowed to marry? Like the fuckin’ Pope?”

Louis snorts into his beer. “No, I can marry. I can do whatever I want.” He spreads his arms across the bar behind him and grins. “I’m the alpha.”

Chris and Michael snort but Tom’s eyes go wide. “Is that why you don’t fight?”

Louis waves a hand vaguely. “Nobody really challenges me. I try not to get into people’s business outside of the Black Dog.” He looks at Tom. “Though I could put Richard in his place for you, if you’d like. He’s usually got a beef every month with someone.”

Tom grimaces. “You ever change anybody?” he asks, his tongue slipping out to lick over the scabbing cut on his lip. Louis shakes his head. They seem surprised.

“You ever _kill_ anybody?”

Louis clicks a thumbnail against his glass and lets his gaze stray to Niall again, who gets up and moves closer to listen in. “You know how you can practically taste blood before the moon?” The boys exchange a look and Louis suppresses a sigh. “When I was sixteen. We didn’t really have anything like the club that I knew about back then, so every month was torture. I used to take the full shift for an entire day and run in the woods behind my parents house. I, uh. I killed a hiker.” Before the mood can drop too steeply (before he can remember it too vividly), Louis shrugs. “This guy Simon, he started the club here ten years ago. It’s moved around throughout the years but apparently packs have been doing similar things for centuries, trying to stave off the real shift and cope with the violence the moon makes us feel. Uh, Simon brought me into it and I was kind of a shit, challenged him and ended up winning. He seemed ready to retire, anyway. So he owns the Black Dog, hired Harry the bartender. People seem to like me more as the alpha, anyway.”

“Hear hear!” Niall laughs and raises his beer and the boys raise their glasses too. Louis waits for them to finish their drinks before offering, “you can come to me anytime, you know. Let me know if anyone’s giving you trouble, if you just wanna run sometime. Whatever.”

The pups all grin and order another round of shots.

++

There’s a new guy that Niall points out the next month, “his name’s Liam. He got changed two months ago and has been having a hard time with it. Don’t know who bit him.”

He’s tall and sturdy, the type who would probably be able to pass as a born wolf if he really wanted to. Or the type who gets bit by some fringe nut trying to turn only the strongest and most worthy humans. Louis is watching him with an attention that he only gives people when he’s drunk, knows from past experience that other pack members get a little squeamish when Louis stares at them for too long but _shit_ , the dude is built. But here he’s trying to shrink against the back wall, edging closer to the door like he’s considering making a run for it. Niall gives Louis a look. “Might help if you talk to him.”

Louis weighs the pros and cons as he nurses his gin and tonic. The pups usually regard Louis in one of two ways: some authority figure on a pedestal to be praised and loved, or some authority figure on a pedestal to be fought and challenged. Either way, though, the kid looks strung out. And Louis can’t risk him leaving and blabbing to the wrong people _hey, there’s a werewolf fight club in the pub cellar_. And he’s really hot. So Louis’ll talk to him.

Louis approaches with his hand extended and a smile and Liam looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Hi. I’m Louis.” He’s being his best charming self. Despite the full moon and despite wanting to go all Dominate Alpha Boss on him. And being a little drunk and thinking this pup is attractive in a _I’m either going to punch you or fuck you_ kind of way. Louis is being goddamn _charming_. “First time at the Black Dog?”

Liam nods and then seems to realize it’s his turn to speak, “The blond--Niall--told me about it. It’s, um.” Liam looks around. “Only my third month. Like this.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. He wants to ask who changed him so badly, _who got to bite into that_ , but he chews the inside of his cheek instead. “How have you been handling the moons?”

It seems to strike a chord and Liam looks at him, finally. His eyes are still as gold as the other new pups. “It’s weird. It’s weird, you know? I was never a violent person, but now its…”

Even drunk, Louis’s face sets into an expression of concern. “Have you taken the shift? Have you hurt anyone?”

Liam shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that. I...I think I shifted the first month but I was in my apartment the entire night. Otherwise I just go to the gym.” He glances around the pub and laughs. “So I’m not sure how much a fight club will help. I think I’m doing fine. I’m not much of a fighter.”

Louis hums. “It really helps a lot of guys here, you know. For a lot of them, it’s nothing personal. But for us it’s a better outlet than hitting a punching bag.” He reaches out and pats Liam on the arm. His very muscular arm. “Just give it a try.”

++

“Pup. Let’s go,” Niall snaps at Liam. Liam freezes like most newcomers do at their first challenge but instead of shaking it off and stepping into the circle, he looks at Louis. Louis gestures for the ring but Liam shakes his head and now every head is turned to Louis. “You don’t want to fight?” he asks evenly. It’s happened before. Especially the younger ones, teenagers still not sure of what they’re getting into.

Liam’s jaw hardens. “No.”

Niall raises his eyebrows but backs off, gestures to some other newbie instead and their fight ensues. Liam watches Louis for the entire fight.

Two others challenge Liam--just for the hell of it, a newbie who declines the first challenge often gets picked on until he agrees, but he declines both. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, just uninterested in each man who points to him. Content to drink and sit back and not participate. Louis can feel the annoyance from the others around him. At the end of the night, as men are filing out with some anger still simmering between everyone, Louis pulls Liam aside.

“Look. I know it’s your first time here, but you don’t get to come here and not fight. That’s not how this works.”

Liam raises his eyebrows. “I thought it was more, like, community building or something.”

Louis barks a laugh. He’s not as calm as he usually is by the end of the night, his stomach still in knots knowing that the rest of the pack didn’t get out all of their aggression. “Uh, kind of. But it’s mostly so everyone can work out their moon and not go hurt people otherwise.”

“Oh, I’d never hurt anyone,” Liam scoffs, like it’s a ridiculous notion. Like he’s better than what they have going on here. Suddenly he’s not so attractive anymore. Louis has had pups in the past who didn’t want to fight, who weren’t sure of how to react to the club, but this is a first. A pup who comes and doesn’t adhere to the rules but thinks he should be allowed to stay anyway.

Louis has no idea how he’s managed to keep his cool. Nobody’s given him trouble like this before. “No pup can promise me that they won’t hurt anyone. You come here to fight. That’s how it works. Don’t come to my turf acting like you’re an expert after three months.”

Liam shifts his feet, looks away for a moment. “It’s just kind of primal, don’t you think?” he asks, his voice with a new edge to it. Louis flexes his hands. Feels static-y. Louis crosses his arms, kicks a foot back up against the wall he’s leaning against. “How have you been handling the moons, then? Ignoring it? Drugs? Sex? Chaining yourself up, what?”

Liam blushes at the suggestions but stands his ground, looks Louis square in the eye. There’s flecks of gold in his eyes, brighter than most of the men in the cellar. “Dealing with it,” he says evenly. Louis hums.

“We’re not an after-school club. If you don’t agree with how we do things here, don’t come back.” Louis hesitates. “I don’t want new wolves to go through their shifts alone. But you can’t come here and not accept challenges. It throws everyone off. Especially new pups, they don’t know how hard it can get. At least here, there’s a pack. And an outlet.”

“No offense, Louis, but I’m not like that. I’m not some meathead trying to beat people up.”

“That’s not what!--” Louis snaps and then pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath until the static behind his eyes softens. “That’s not what this is. You’re a part of this community now whether you like it or not. I’m offering you a family here. A way to deal with the moons. But you have to play by our rules.”

Liam gives him a tight smile. “Thanks for the offer. But I think I’ll be okay.”

He leaves without looking back.

++

It’s not that Louis doesn’t have a hard time with the moons. He does. Except he hasn’t had this nightmare in years.

It’s the loud static that he can’t think his way out of, teeth too sharp to speak around. Sweet copper in his mouth. Hands not quite hands anymore and pressing down on something he doesn’t want look at. He already knows what it is.

 _Please don’t!--_ and he doesn’t know what to do about the blood in his mouth, all over his muzzle. His gums aching in time with the man’s pulse between his teeth until it flutters to a stop. A tendon caught on one of his canines. Maybe the worst of it is when he changes back, comes around covered in scratches, his ribs aching from where the man kicked him trying to get away. He remembers all of it, covered in the evidence of all of it, bloody face and fists. Louis wakes up sobbing.

++

“Are you alright?” Niall’s watching him with a bowed head and concern etched between his eyebrows and Louis isn’t used to such genuine questions. He scrubs a hand across his face.

“I’m worried about that Liam kid.” He doesn’t know what to say after that. _I don’t want him killing one of us. Killing a human. I hate knowing there’s pups out there who don’t know their own strength and think they can handle it._ Niall nods like he understands anyway.

“I know where he works,” Niall supplies carefully, hands flexing around the steering wheel, “if you wanted to try and talk to him.”

The sky is split almost perfectly down an invisible center, bright blue puffy clouds being pushed out by impending dark blue sky. Louis watches the clouds through the side view mirror of the car. Heading right into it.

++

  
Louis prefers to run with others. Sometimes it’s hard to convince other people to follow him through the shift-- it’s painful for some of them, others have trouble coming back to their human brain afterwards. But he’s got Niall and Nick and a handful of others that are up for it most of the time. Niall and Nick are already waiting for him past the lake tonight, both standing calm and attentive. Niall’s ears are pricked forward as Louis breaks through the trees on his bike and dumps it with their backpacks, peels off his t-shirt and steps out of his boots and jeans. He’s got a few working theories about why the shifts hurt more for some than others; the ones who prefer not to shift are the ones who get the most aggressive during the moon, the ones who usually cause concussions and broken noses during fights. For Louis, it feels like it’s just a muscle that needs to be stretched--he drops into his wolf more easily than most, knows where he’s going to shrink and stretch and knows what to expect. It’s not so much a sharp rip anymore as it is a dull ache. It’s not as static when he shifts outside of the full moon, has more of his brain with him. Louis is the smallest wolf next to Nick and Niall but he’s the leanest, the most muscular. Nick is like he is as a human, lanky and uncoordinated, his dark wiry coat always with leaves or twigs stuck in it. Niall’s a handsome blonde wolf, stocky and sure of the way he carries himself just as he does on his human feet. They both greet Louis with wolfish grins, Nick jumping ontop of him and giving his ears a few nips until Louis gives him a warning growl and Niall ducks underneath of Louis and licks at his chin. Nick waits impatiently for them in a deep bow, haunches raised and tail wagging slowly. Niall gives Louis a quick bite on the scruff of his neck and bounds away, back towards the forest.  It’s a good night for a run.

++

Liam is at George’s one night. He’s not well-known enough in the pack yet to fully understand that it’s an alternative hang-out spot, that the Black Dog isn’t usually very frequented outside of the moon and that George’s is where humans and wolves can mix without either knowing the other. It’s where Louis can go and not act like a leader even though he’s still understood to be one.

Louis slips through the crowd and settles behind a group of relatively new wolves still trying to work out the hierarchy of it all, eavesdropping to them debate bitten versus born wolves.

“There’s a stigma, you know? They look at us like we have to prove something, like the born ones are mightier-than-thou.”

“Well, they are the experts on this stuff, aren’t they?”

A scoff. “Doesn’t mean they get the run of the show.”

There’s a long pause. “It does help though, doesn’t it? The Black Dog meetings?”

Uncommitted mumbling and then the same guy, “I mean, my first two shifts I killed deer. _Deer_. I’d rather punch Richard for being an asshole than wake up with deer hair and blood all over me and having to run home naked before someone sees.” He shrugs and takes a swig of his beer. “I know people talk about trying to ignore the moon, but. It’s fuckin’ hard ignoring that.”

“Maybe the born have some secret they’re not telling us. I’ve heard wolves howling in the woods outside of the city. And I’ve seen kids who don’t get blood-crazy every month.”

“I’ve read about this. Kids rarely get bit--it’s mostly idiot teenagers at raves. And supposedly born wolves don’t get aggressive until puberty.”

A group of laughs. “Fuckin’ figures.”

Liam, also eavesdropping, catches Louis’s eye from the other side of the crowd and Louis just gives him a wide-eyed look and a shrug before he shoulders into the group of pups. “You guys hear about the murder uptown two weeks ago? The lady who they thought got mauled by a bear or something?”

The pups eyes go wide--either out of shock or surprise that Louis had been eavesdropping, but they’re silent so Louis continues casually, “That was one of us. One of our guys who stopped coming to the Black Dog, thought he could ride out the moon with heroin and locking himself in his house. You ever see a fuckin’ wolf strung out on heroin?” Still no responses. Louis shrugs. “Well, shocker, he got out. It seems like blood is a pretty big factor in staying sane through the moon, yeah? Trying to sleep through it or, like, go to the gym doesn’t do much.” he glances at Liam across the group. “Born wolves aren’t hiding anything. Some prefer to take the full shift, into a wolf, even though it’s painful. But it seems like blood is inevitable for us.” Louis casts a fleeting look at each of them. “You’re free to try your own tactics, and hell, let me know if any of them work. It’s not like a lot of us _want_ to turn into violent, aggressive asshole wolves. So let me know how Not Fighting works for you.” He turns to leave before holding a finger up, turning back briefly, “Oh. And the wolf that killed the lady uptown? He’s buried by the north end of the river. I made sure of that. So if you’re going to try not-fighting, you better be sure it’s a damn effective method.”

++

Liam’s a busboy at Franco’s so Louis sends Harry or Niall once a week to keep an eye on him. Apparently Harry’s been leaving behind subtle hints--pamphlets for Louis’s library with his meal tip, cards for the Black Dog. Unfortunately, Liam doesn’t seem like the library type. It’s been two months since he’s come to Black Dog.

“He’s. Doing his best,” Harry allows. Louis drops his forehead against the table. They’re at George’s, a few other pack members watching them wearily but it’s clear that Louis, Niall, and Harry need their own table. Niall gives Harry a pointed look and Harry caves. “He snapped at a customer when I was there. Looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Louis rubs his face. “He’s not going to want to talk to me.” They’ve lost pups before, guys who aren’t about the fight and do find better outlets that work for them. But they usually end up moving out of the city for their own good. So it’s not that Louis really _cares_ that much about Liam yet. But he cares about the safety of his own pack enough to know that he has to keep the pup in check.

“Sounds like he might need to,” Niall mutters into his glass.

++

Liam sees Louis in the waiting area and immediately turns around and disappears into the kitchen. Louis orders a slice of pizza and takes his time eating it until all the other tables are empty and Louis’s is the last one that needs to be cleaned before closing. Liam waits at the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed.

“How are you?” Louis asks, as harmlessly as possible, but Liam bristles anyway.

“Fine.”

Louis tears at his pizza crust. “You sure?”

“Yes.” He’s radiating waves of tension and exhaustion.

“You haven’t reconsidered the Dog?”

“No,” Liam replies harshly. Seems like he’s not going to take the bait and then he comes over, gathers Louis’s plates into the bus tub. Up close he’s got dark circles under his eyes, scruff along his jaw that would be attractive if it didn’t mean he was having such a hard time. He looks how Louis felt before he joined the pack. “I’ve seen your type, you high-and-mighty born wolves who think you’re some kind of secret society better than the rest of us, making the new ones come and fight to prove themselves to you, I don’t want anything to do with that kind of community--” Liam rips right into it as he wipes down Louis’s table, ending every sentence with an edge to his voice like he’s had a long time to think about this. So, good cop clearly isn’t going to work.

“You don’t come to my fucking pack and speak to me like this, _Pup_ ,” Louis snarls, low and threatening. He stands up and Liam’s mouth snaps shut. “Nobody is forcing you to join our pack. Stay your own course. But if I find out that the handle you have on your shift isn’t as strong as you think it is, if I find out that you endanger anyone of us or any humans, I’ll make sure you never step foot in this city again.”

If Liam was in his wolf form ( _he’s probably got a stunning wolf behind those big brown eyes)_ , his tail would be drooping between his legs. He pales like he’s never been threatened like this before, and maybe he hasn’t. Louis puffs himself up even more, chest-to-chest even though he’s a good few inches shorter than Liam. “So be honest with me. How have you been doing.”

Liam’s jaw twitches. “I’m fine.”

Louis doesn’t believe him and it looks like Liam doesn’t entirely believe himself. Louis sidesteps around him and drops a few bills on the table for a tip. He’s not gonna kill himself over some pup who thinks he can do better. He doesn’t have the patience. “Invitation is still open for fight nights,” he calls over his shoulder.

++

There’s movie night at the library, _Prisoners of Azkaban_ for the local elementary school’s summer reading list. Louis tries his best to ignore the giggles from pack kids as they watch him set up the DVD player in the children’s lit lounge area, but he can’t help but throw a playful snarl over his shoulder at them. When he turns to growl, his eyes catch a familiar figure standing at the end of an aisle of books. Liam’s got his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched and looking worse for the wear.

“Hi,” Louis says tersely. He hopes that Liam understands and respects that the library isn’t a place to bring pack shit but it seems that he knows. He looks like a lost puppy.

“Can we talk?”

Louis dips his head in a nod and heads towards the back of the library, a small reading area for the reference and encyclopedias that nobody’s ever in. Liam collapses into a chair and buries his face in his hands for a moment. Louis waits.

Finally, Liam raises and shakes his head. “I feel like you don’t _get it_ ,” he bites out. Louis steels himself immediately but waits for more. “I feel like this is _fucked_. Either punch guys in the face or get out? How does that _work_? Why do you born types pit the new ones against each other? Why can’t I just come _watch_?”

Louis pulls his chair closer and sits on the arm of it, elbows on his knees. “Because last time we let people come in to _just watch_ , they shot us. Or placed bets on us.”

Liam shakes his head and drops it into his hands again, agitated. His leg bounces. “I feel like you don’t fucking _understand_.”

Louis straights up, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah? And what would I not _understand_ , Liam?”

His eyes are bloodshot and tired. “The pain of every month. Wanting to rip out people’s hearts for just looking at you funny.” He slumps backwards and stares up at the ceiling. “Maybe the other ones were right. You born wolves keeping some secret just to watch us suffer.”

“You gotta learn to not speak on what _you_ don’t understand, pup,” Louis snaps firmly, voice level. “There’s no difference between born and bit in our pack. If there is, it’s fixed in the at the Black Dog.”

“How are you alpha, then?” Liam challenges. “Family connections? The Tomlinson clan a long dynasty of born wolves?”

Louis’s voice develops a cold, hard edge. “I was bit when I was fifteen. I had to run away from home because I was terrified that I was going to kill one of my sisters every month.” Liam pales. “So _yeah_ , I understand it. And I’m trying to provide the new wolves with an outlet every month so they don’t have to make the same mistakes I did. The only blood on the hands and mouths of my pack is blood from each other. I intend to keep it that way.” Louis stands up. “Wolves have been trying to find ways to protect and cope with themselves for centuries. And a fight club might not be perfect, but it’s a whole lot better than dead humans or hundreds of new pups running around every month.” Louis opens his arms and shrugs. “Come fight me. You’ll thank me later.”

++

  
_You don’t understand_ gets deeper under Louis’s skin than he would’ve preferred it to. He walks home sulking over the fact that these bitten wolves don’t understand that he’s doing this so they don’t have to kill people. He has to stop walking at one point, head pressed against a telephone pole with his eyes closed. Being fifteen and in search of something he didn’t understand yet. He just knew that he couldn’t sit next to his sisters without wanting to dig his fingers into their hands just to see how easily their skin could break. The heart of that hunter soft and warm and red in his mouth, delicate like a baby deer. His own stupid teenage attempts to control the moon; smoking so much weed that he could hardly see straight it and just made him want to hurt himself. He didn’t trust himself to cope with sex. Tattoos worked, for a while, but any tattoo that drew pinpricks of blood only made him want more of it, and it got expensive quick. The first time he and Niall met was in a bar fight and they both seemed to realize what was happening at the same time, blood slick across Niall’s teeth and Louis had a black eye so bad that the white of his left eye was pink for a month. But it worked for them. Louis stopped wanting to sink his fangs into his own arm, stopped wanting to eat people alive and started working on his right uppercuts instead. _You don’t understand_. Except that he does. He understands so well that he aches with it.

++

Liam doesn’t show up to the next fight but there’s not enough time for Louis to dwell on it. He’s too busy keeping the peace between two pups, one coming into the bar too heated already, raising the aggression of everyone in the room until there’s practically a crowd against the cellar door. “Harvest moon,” Harry reminds him quietly as Louis shoves his way behind the bar. Shit. Louis had forgotten about it. He throws Harry a disheartened look and Harry reaches into a cabinet under the bar and hands him a first aid kit. It’s going to be bloody.

++

Niall doesn’t even know what the beef is between the two pups but they’re the first to charge towards the cellar circle before Louis even has time to fully step back. Probably a result of the harvest moon, kicking everyone’s wolf into overdrive and the pups being too scared of their full shift to try and run it off. They’re not holding back at all and it seems personal, maybe a girl or a turf thing but Louis isn’t about to stop them to ask. The pack is quiet, tonight, not with their usual hollers and howls. It’s a heavy kind of quiet, the kind of quiet that comes over the pack during a hunt. When blood is close. It’s quiet enough that they all can hear the _crack_ of one of the boy’s noses breaking, the muffled beat of fists on flesh. One of the pup’s teeth have gotten longer, sharper and the other has fists that have sprouted claws. The one with the broken nose spits a mouthful of blood onto the mat and when he looks up his eyes are dangerously gold. He’s bleeding from the mouth and a cut above his eyebrow and one on his cheek and the other one has deep cuts along his ribs and bruises already blossoming across his back. Louis circles around to the other side of the pit opposite Niall, poised in case either of them shift fully by accident but the fight ends before it can happen, the pup with the bleeding face throwing a punch to the other one’s head hard enough that he drops to the mat like a brick, unconscious. Niall swoops in, helps the other pup drag the unconscious one off the mat and checks them both over for anything that would warrant actual medical attention. Before he can give Louis the nod that they’re both okay there’s two others already coming forward to brawl and Louis has to turn his attention to them. Everyone seems on the very edge of a full shift tonight.

Louis doesn’t realize he’s had his jaw clenched all night until after four more fights that end with broken jaws and noses and ribs. He jaw aches when he finally relaxes it, standing back in the center of the circle surveying the damages. And nobody’s dead, so he counts it as a win.

Except.

“Hey, Louis,” Harry pokes his head out of the door at the top of the stairs. “There’s, uh. Been an incident.”

There’s red and blue lights cutting up the mottled windows of the bar when Louis comes upstairs and his heart is in his throat, his static from the moon stopping so quickly that his body goes numb. “It’s not us,” Harry assures him quickly. “But, uh. It seems like someone got attacked about two blocks away.” He pauses. “And one of your cops said it was someone from your pack. A pup.”

“Alright. Alright, keep everyone here. Niall! Keep everyone here,” Louis shouts towards the open cellar door. Last thing the cops need on a crime scene is a bunch of fucking bleeding pissed off harvest moon werewolves. He pushes out of the pub and jogs in the direction of the police lights. There’s only one of two possibilities--it’s a brand new pup, freshly bit and crazy with the full moon, or. Well. Louis can’t say he didn’t warn him.

Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit satisfied to see Liam being bent over the hood of a cop car. Officer Braddock is holding him, one of Niall’s connections who nods to Louis as he jogs over. “What happened.”

“Harvest moon, innit,” Braddock clicks his tongue. “Got to be a little much to handle. The victim is en route to the hospital, probably has a concussion and a few broken ribs. Rin Tin Tin here beat the shit out of him over stepping on the back of his shoes by accident.”

Liam gives a hard flinch against Braddock holding him. “Can I take him?” Louis asks, except it’s not really a question.

 Braddock waves hand. “You want cuffs on him?”

Louis considers it. As satisfying as it would be, it would look bad on both of them to bring Liam back to the Black Dog--back to the entire pack--in handcuffs. Like Louis can’t control the pups. He shakes his head. Grabs Liam by the back of the neck and steers him away from the cop car. There’s a moment, a second, where Liam’s eyes are spitting angry. Bright gold and looking like he’s going to tear Louis’s throat out. And then Louis growls low and tightens his grip on Liam’s neck, leaning close enough that he can lay his sharpened canines on the pulse that’s jack-hammering in Liam’s neck. He could kill him. He could at least _bite_ him, sink his fangs into the soft meat where his neck and shoulder meet as a reminder of who’s pack he’s interfering with, whose turf he’s on. It’s the first time that Louis misses it, for a heartbeat, blood flooding his mouth from more than just a scratch in a fight. Enough blood to satiate the full moon buzzing in his ears. Louis’s fingernails lengthen enough that they start to dig into the sides of Liam’s neck and then Liam seems to come to realize the reality of his situation. He ducks his head down and allows himself to be dragged by his shirt collar back to the Black Dog.

The whole pack has gathered upstairs by the time they get back, most of them pressed to the windows and still holding ice-napkins to their cuts and bruises. They scatter like kids when Louis comes in with Liam, all eyes on them as Louis marches Liam straight down the cellar stairs.

++

Louis has to stop himself from ripping him apart. The ache in his jaw is back and the static in his ears never left so he has to take a moment to compose himself. He shoves Liam down the three last steps and then pauses himself, gripping the railing with both hands. When he turns to Liam he’s as composed as he can get himself. He hates that his teeth have gotten sharper in the last ten minutes, though.

Liam’s silent, looking at his bloodied hands. He takes a stuttered breath, blinking hard a few times before he looks up at Louis. He doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Louis laughs as he crosses his arms. “What’s done is done. What are you going to do about it next time? Because next time, you’ll murder someone. I promise you that.”

Liam pales quickly at the thought and for a moment, Louis thinks he’ll be sick. And Louis can’t help but want to rub it in his face a little bit. “You see what I mean, now? Why we fight each other?”

Liam’s not looking at him but he nods at the floor.  Louis hums. “Good. How are you for tonight? This month?” He squints. “It felt good to draw blood, didn’t it?”  
  
“I get it, alright?” Liam snaps. “I fucked up. I thought I could handle it.” his eyes are welling up, hands still clenched into tight fists. “I”m sorry.”

And just like that, Louis is exhausted. From the whole night. From blood and spit and teeth. “Come back next month and I’ll know you mean it,” he sighs. Gives Liam one final squeeze on the back of the neck before climbing the stairs to check on the rest of his pack.

++

Louis is relieved to see Liam at the bar the next month around. No news is good news with the pack but that doesn’t stop Louis from worrying the week before meetings every month. But Liam’s here and looks...better, at least like he’s shaved and got some sleep.

“You work your shit out here,” Louis recites. He gives a lingering look to Liam who smirks but ducks his head. “You get one challenge. One at a time.”

There’s a silence. Maybe after last month’s fights people are still recovering, or hesitant to get their ass kicked. And then Liam steps forward. Looks around before he tugs his shirt off and slips off his shoes like the rest of the pups usually do. He makes eyecontact with Louis and gives a half-hearted shrug.

He doesn’t seem to realize what he’s done when all eyes in the room turn to him. Louis hasn’t fought for years. It’s some unsaid rule that the pack established by themselves, that nobody goes for Louis. The static in his ears is popping, a kind of jitteryness that won’t go away with running as a wolf. He steps out of his boots and onto the mat.

It’s a buzz the room has never had before, excited chirps and whistles and playful taunts. Liam takes a few cautionary steps but Louis’s blood is pumping loud in his ears and he’s practically hopping. He breaks into a toothy grin, nodding at Liam. Louis skips his gaze up and down Liam’s torso, notes the deep puncture wounds, bite mark, on his bicep. “C’mon then, pup.”

The _pup_ seems to get him and Liam lunges for the first swing and Louis sidesteps and hits right back, striking him in the ribs. It’s not as hard as he could’ve hit him but there’s shouts from the circle of men around them and Liam’s next swing is harder, grazing Louis’s shoulder. He’s a good fighter, not just flailing fists and jumpy dodges. It gets more serious with every swing, mounting static and pressure to _not lose to a fuckin pup_. Louis takes a swift hit to the chin and stumbles backwards but then Liam gets cocky, tongue poking out and hair flopping over his forehead as he hops from foot to foot. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t see Louis coming straight back at him, one fluid hit to the jaw that sends Liam backwards and then hunching over, cradling the side of his face and looking up at Louis. His expression is a mix of shock and curiosity, a look Louis has seen on a lot of pups who get truly hit for the first time during a moon. Now Louis grins, goes for him again but Liam grabs him by the biceps and punches him _hard_ and Louis is dizzy and has a bloody mouth, static buzzing through his whole upper body. Niall lets out a supportive bark and the crowd is a mix of amused smiles and anxious shouts but Louis and Liam have zeroed in on each other, Liam watching Louis’s bloody mouth and Louis watching Liam’s ribcage heave with his breaths. It’s not quite competition that’s sparking between them but it’s something close. Respect, maybe.

Louis crow-hops the distance between them and gives Liam a blow to the cheek hard enough that it splits a cut open and Liam gasps, fingers flying to his face instinctively and they come away red. Louis’s hands are flying, now, throwing punches hard and fast so that Liam stumbles until his back is up against the concrete pillar. Louis pulls two or three punches--remembers that he’s still only fighting a pup-- but Liam takes the opportunity to grab one of Louis’s wrists and then the other one and the two stop. Louis’s wrists clamped in Liam’s grip and they stare each other down. Liam’s got a split cheek and the beginnings of a black eye and Louis’s mouth is throbbing and he knows enough about his body to know that at least a rib or two is bruised. Louis finally smiles around the blood in his mouth and Liam lets out a breath, drops Louis’s wrists.

Liam steps to the side where his shoes and shirt are and Louis backs away, waves a hand for the next pair to come forward. He finds his place next to Niall and grabs his shoulder to balance on while he pulls his shoes back on. When he stands up, Liam’s trying to find his place back in the circle in the midst of another fight starting and the only gap in the crowd is next to Niall and Louis. He approaches with a bowed head, hesitant and without a shirt, because it’s pressed to the cut on his face. Louis rolls his eyes and offers him a towel, grips the back of his neck and steers him to stand next to Niall.

The night isn’t so serious, maybe because Louis and Liam’s first fight didn’t end in any clear victory or defeat. Another argument breaks out by the last fight that the blood and sweat and spit on the mats make them slippery, renewing the age-old argument about wrestling mats versus concrete floors and Louis has to break it up, barks “You don’t want Harry fired, do you?” and they quiet down because Harry is the pack's favorite human. Niall and Nick fight about whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich. And the later the night gets the more relaxed Liam gets beside Louis. It’s the first time that Louis sees him standing tall and attentive, not hunched over trying to shrink into the walls. Liam catches Louis looking at him. “What?”

Louis shakes his head and claps him on the shoulder. “Not to say I told you so but. I told you so.”

Liam breathes a laugh. “So maybe a werewolf fight club isn’t that bad.”

Louis rolls his eyes but watches the last fight winding down with the two men in the circle giggling because one of them blew a snot-bubble of blood. The rest of the cellar is winding down, more like a college basement party than a room full of bloodthirsty wolves. Niall’s supporting an exhausted Nick on one shoulder and leading a full argument with five other men about hotdogs. And the pups are here, safe, learning their place and learning their new habits.

Louis is completely clear-headed, with no static to distract him.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hey [on tumblr!](http://foxesmouth.tumblr.com)


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